


ocean water, summer breeze, you

by hellodeer



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Meeting the Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 12:32:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17162057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellodeer/pseuds/hellodeer
Summary: Mila meets Sara's parents in Hasetsu.





	ocean water, summer breeze, you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ZodiacRiver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZodiacRiver/gifts).



Sara is a child of the sea. She grew up in a house a couple blocks from the beach, where the sunrise illuminated her bedroom every morning, bringing her to wakefulness bright and early. She and her brother swam in the ocean almost every day, sand sticking to their toes and the sun on their heads, and it was a struggle for their parents to wrangle them back home before school.

Maybe that’s why Sara’s skin is always warm: leftover warmth from her childhood days at the beach, making friends with the waves and the sun rays. Maybe that’s why she’s prone to feel cold, too. Mila, born and raised in St. Petersburg where the winters are endless and the wind freezes your bones, doesn’t understand why Sara buttons up her coat when it’s 25 degrees outside.

Mila is meant to thrive on the ice. Sara isn’t, yet she does. Maybe out of stubbornness, maybe out of a desire to follow her brother around all the time. Through sheer force of will, Sara climbs from the bottom of the ranks to fourth in the world in a mere two seasons.

“It was the move to California,” she always says, crediting her coach and team with a smile. It’s only partially true, though: Mila knows Sara’s worked harder than anyone, put in hours and hours of practice and study, of ballet classes, gym sessions and late-night runs by the beach. 

But maybe it had been the move to California. L.A. provided Sara with both skating and the ocean, too. The Pacific, very different in energy and life from Sara’s beloved Mediterranean, but still. 

Hasetsu feels a lot more like home, Sara says. The Sea of Japan is calm and steady, like a trusted friend who waits for your return and welcomes you always. It’s in Hasetsu that Mila meets Sara’s parents for the first time, instead of Naples or Beirut or even L.A.

(“Meeting the parents,” Viktor nods when she tells him about it. “An important step in any serious relationship.”

Mila levels him with an incredulous stare, which turns even more incredulous when she realizes she has no one else to talk to about this.

“You barged in on Katsuki’s parents’ inn unannounced and then freeloaded there for a year,” she deadpans.

“They refused to accept my payments,” Viktor retorts with great dignity. “It was still nerve-wrecking. And after we got engaged it was like meeting them for the first time.”

“I really don’t know what to do,” Mila says, in a panic. “I never got to the meeting the parents stage.” 

She’s dated many girls and boys, but they were mostly flings, something to do to pass the time in the off season when she was lonely and bored and pining in secret. None of them had been even remotely close to Sara, who makes Mila’s palms sweat and her heart sing, makes her giddy with happiness and love, makes her want to be stronger, healthier, _better_.

“I know,” Viktor pats her shoulder awkwardly. He was never any good at giving advice, too busy with himself to care much for anyone else, but he’s been different since he upped and left for Japan. Katsuki has been good for him, too. “Honestly, just be yourself.”

Mila just stares at him.

“Okay,” he nods. “Be yourself, but less.”

“Ugh,” Mila groans, frustrated and nervous and scared.

She wants Sara’s parents to like her. She doesn’t need their approval — Sara is an adult, capable of making of her choices, and she chose Mila. They’ve been over the whole you-need-my-permission thing with Michele, and it had been annoying and useless for everyone. So she doesn’t need their approval, but she does want to like them and be liked by them, to be called _bambina_ and _cara_ and _nuora_.)

She and Sara meet up with them at a restaurant after one of their performances on Hasetsu on Ice (“What a lame name, Vitya,” she had said when Viktor invited her a few months ago. “You couldn’t come up something more creative?”) Sara’s parents are already seated at a table for four on the rooftop, but they get up as Mila and Sara approach, both smiling broadly. Mila feels like throwing up right then and there, or turning on her heels and fleeing, never to be seen again, until Sara squeezes her hand and beams at her. It’s not enough to make Mila’s heart calm down, but she does smile back and straightens her back.

“Ah, bambina mia,” Sara’s dad says, hugging her tight. He whispers something to her in Italian, and Sara giggles like a little girl, the sound of her laughter traveling like bells through the air. Mila stands behind a little awkwardly, changing the bottle of wine she’s carrying from hand to hand while Sara moves to her mother, who kisses her cheeks and hugs her.

“Mamma, papa,” Sara says, then switches to English. “This is Mila.”

“Hello, Mr. Crispino, Mrs. Crispino,” she says, for some reason bowing before she can catch herself and immediately feeling like a fool.

“Please, call me Giancarlo,” Sara’s dad says in a heavily-accented English, and opens his arms to squeeze Mila against his chest. 

He’s not very tall but he is muscular, except for around his middle, where a round belly shows through his cream-colored shirt. Sara’s told her he was born and raised in Naples and has never left the city for more than a couple of weeks. Apparently he has been all over the world, but Naples is the only home he knows and the only place he loves. A homebody, which Mila can see a lot in Sara, too.

“And I’m Sonia,” Sara’s mother says, her English perfect. She politely air kisses Mila on both cheeks, but her small smile is private and genuine. 

Sonia is taller than her husband in heels, and Mila suspects she’d be taller than him barefooted too. She’s very thin, with the most straight black hair Mila has even seen. Her eyes are a beautiful, complex shade — amber, or honey, or even green under a certain light. Her skin is darker than Sara’s, and it suddenly makes sense to Mila, the stories Sara’s told her of being bullied as a kid, of the stares and sneers from kids and adults alike when her Lebanese mother picked her up from school or the rink.

“Nice to meet you both,” Mila says, blinking slowly, trying to adjust her eyes to Sonia’s beauty and Giancarlo’s friendly beam. “I brought you this wine.”

“Thank you, cara,” Giancarlo says. “But I don’t drink.”

“Oh,” Mila says. She feels very stupid suddenly, and looks at Sara, lost. Sara just shrugs.

“I do,” Sonia says. She takes the wine from Mila’s hand and sets it down on the table. As they all sit down, she gestures for a waitress to bring three glasses.

A light, warm summer breeze makes its presence known while they analyze their menus. Sara chats away with her parents in English, turning to smile at Mila every few seconds. Mila smiles back.

“So,” she says. “I hear the wagyu beef is very good here.”

She didn’t hear, exactly — she asked Mari Katsuki for recommendations from that specific restaurant before leaving Yu-topia. She wants to impress Sara’s parents a little bit, wants them to think she has good taste for meals as well as girls.

“Sounds good,” Sonia says. Mila is ready to reward herself a few points until she adds: “But I’m a vegetarian.”

Mila feels her face turn red with embarrassment, quickly scans the menu to save herself.

“Then, maybe, ugh, the soba? It has no meat.”

Sonia looks at Mila like she’s amused. It’s better than contempt, so Mila will take it.

“Why don’t I order the soba and you three can order the wagyu?”

“Excellent!” Giancarlo says cheerfully, clapping his hands once.

While they wait for their meals, Sonia pours them the wine. Mila has no idea if it’s good or not — she just grabbed the most expensive one she could find at the store. So Mila watches carefully while Sonia takes a sip, raises her eyebrows in surprise and proceeds to drink it all in one go.

“Oh, this is good, Mila,” Sara says, sniffing her glass and smiling over the brim. Mila, relieved, drinks two glasses before the food arrives.

It helps a bit. She feels loose and warm, relaxed enough to join the conversation. Sara gushes over her, Giancarlo asks her about skating and Sonia asks about her family. Mila asks them questions, too, and they answer every single one (“We met when I was a student at Stazione Zoologica,” Sonia says, the corners of her mouth turning up in a barely-there smile. “She was the most beautiful girl I had even seen,” Giancarlo sighs. “Still is.”) They talk about Sara and Michele with pride and fondness, about the weather, about their jobs.

“I work for the government,” Giancarlo says, cutting into his wagyu with gusto.

Sara rolls her eyes. “He means he’s the chief of staff for the mayor of Naples.”

“Really?” Mila asks through a mouthful, too impressed to remember manners.

Giancarlo just gives nods enthusiastically, pointing at his beef with his fork and giving her a thumbs up. Mila giggles, very happy.

“And my mother is a marine biologist,” Sara completes.

“I do research on how global warming affects corals in the Mediterranean,” Sonia says.

Mila thinks that’s very impressive, too.

They’re both — lovely. Mesmerizing, really. There’s so much of them in Sara, and meeting them is like getting a little closer to figuring her out. The three of them laugh loudly and freely, and at some point after dessert Mila just watches their banter and quick conversation, feeling warm and happy and very, very lucky.

Sara catches her grinning like a fool.

“What is it?” she asks playfully, smiling too. She reaches out to tuck a lock of Mila’s hair behind her ear and Mila grabs her hand, brings it to her mouth to kiss her palm.

Sonia clears her throat. When Mila turns to look at them, face red from the wine and the sudden shyness, she finds Giancarlo beaming and Sonia with a thoughtful look.

“We have to go, bambina,” Sonia says, slow and considerate.

“Already?” Sara pouts. “It’s not even midnight yet.”

“Your dad is an old man,” Sonia teases.

“Yeah,” Giancarlo rolls his eyes. “My back hurts and I did not nap this afternoon. I’m beat.”

Sara starts to argue, but she’s betrayed by a yawn that escapes her mouth. Mila’s tired, too — wine makes her drowsy.

Sara’s parents want to pay the bill, but Mila will have none of it. They pay their share in the end, while she pays hers and Sara’s. Once outside the restaurant, Giancarlo and Sonia hail a cab to take them to their hotel. Giancarlo shouts “Abbraccio di famiglia!”, opening his arms. Sonia and Sara immediately hug him and he kisses their heads. Mila stands on the sidewalk, a little left out, but he waves her over and she joins them in the hug.

“Welcome to the family,” Giancarlo tells her, and kisses her head too.

Mila feels her eyes water, but she refuses to spill. Soon enough Sonia breaks the hug and Giancarlo hops on the cab. Sonia puts a foot inside the car, pauses, then turns around and walks to Mila. She takes Mila’s hands and looks at her with her clear, ocean-like eyes. Mila holds her breath.

“I’ve known my daughter dated girls for some time now,” she glances at Sara and Mila does too, catches Sara’s shocked expression. “A mother always knows,” she says softly, turning to Mila again. “But you’re the first she’s introduced to us. I’m glad it’s you, bambina.”

She can’t stop the tears this time: two fall from her eyes, and Mila laughs wetly and just nods. Sonia smiles at her, kisses her cheeks and leaves.

They wait on the sidewalk until the cab rounds the corner, waving. Then they begin the long walk towards Yu-topia. It’s a hot night but they walk close together, shoulders bumping as they go, keeping each other from falling as they laugh and drunkenly skip on the pavement. Sara doesn’t ask what Mila thought of her parents, or how she feels. Instead, she asks:

“Can you smell it?” Sara asks.

“What?” Mila frowns. She can smell lots of things: the beer from the group of young adults drinking further up the street, the cigarette from the guy they just passed, wet dog from an akita barking at the a girl on a bike. And something else, something like —

“The ocean.”

They’re miles from the beach, all the way across town. But still, still, still — there’s a salty smell in the air, a certain sandy quality to the breeze, a scent that reminds Mila of St. Petersburg, of Sara, of _home_.

“Actually,” Mila says, breathing in and out easily. She takes Sara’s hand. “Yeah.”

**Author's Note:**

> happy holidays, zodie! hope you enjoy yourself :)
> 
> also thanks to @DuendeJunior for beta-ing <3


End file.
